


Good Luck, Sweetheart

by camerasparring



Series: Sex House [7]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Banter, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Married Idiots In Love, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Riding, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerasparring/pseuds/camerasparring
Summary: Eddie busts into Richie's dressing room before a show to, you know, wish him good luck.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Sex House [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552978
Comments: 18
Kudos: 296





	Good Luck, Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> A request from Twitter!  
> Enjoy, pals.

Richie paces the straight line in front of the shining mirror like a sobriety test. 

Results just in: stone cold sober. Just nervous as _fuck_. 

He’s done specials before, he’s done what feels like _millions_ of shows, and sure, he vomits before about, conservatively, maybe a third of them, but he’s never been this goddamn nervous. He’s never felt like he was about to vibrate out of his body from the shaking, like he’ll turn to dust just from the tension. 

The painful thing is that he still has twenty minutes. 

Maybe it’s all the dad humor. Dad humor is fucking _stupid_ , and he should have known it. Eddie’s been lying to him for months. 

“It’s a twist on dad humor ‘cause I’m gay!” he had told everyone, so sure of himself, so fucking _smug_ on his own marital, fatherly happiness and the thrill of being known (which, incidentally, _also_ usually makes him vomit, but that’s cut down to about every ten times, so, progress), but now that he’s actually here, about to say all this shit in front of a huge group of thousands of people he’s about to chicken out.

He’s chickening out. 

Richie’s scrambling to find his phone, which rests unassumingly in his pocket, when the door to his dressing room swings open.

Eddie’s on the other side.

“Well hey, good lookin’,” Eddie drawls, unlike himself to the nth degree, and Richie’s jaw drops open. 

Eddie’s always a dream in a suit, but this evening is a little different, because along with his jet black suit coat, white dress shirt and adorable bow tie, he’s got on tight black shorts instead of pants. He shuffles secretively into the room, and Richie wonders how he made it down the _hall_ without anyone catching him, but the thought catches something in Richie’s chest instead, because did Eddie do this for-

“I came to tell you to ‘break a leg’ or whatever,” Eddie says once he’s fully inside, and Richie chances a dramatic swoon. Luckily there’s a table there to catch him. 

“Eds, you are going to break both my fucking legs with that get-up.” Richie points, then gestures, then moves forward to pull Eddie against him, because it’s a crime he hasn’t done that already. 

“You like it?” Eddie looks down, like he didn’t dress himself. Like he doesn’t know what he’s _doing_. 

“I fucking love it, I fucking love _you_ , now tell me that I can fucking _fuck_ you because that might really take the whole ‘I’m about to go on stage and ruin my career’ tension out of the-”

“That was the plan,” Eddie interrupts, and Richie puffs out a relieved stream of air. “You wanna- here, there’s a chair over there, grab that, the arms aren’t fucking high.”

Richie circles behind the big, cushy green chair in the room and pushes it forward a few inches, sits down, and pats his lap for good measure.

“I assume that’s where this is headed?” 

Eddie slinks toward him, grin curling at his lips. His thighs are fully _out_ , the shorts riding up with every step, and Richie is going to come in two seconds flat. His husband is so fucking _hot_. 

“It better be,” Eddie says, crawling onto his lap and situating his legs so his knees won’t kill him tomorrow. Richie rubs at them anyway. “Otherwise I wore Little Richie all day for no reason.” 

Richie almost chokes. 

“Little- _Edward_. Did you name your plug… after _me_?” 

Eddie slaps at his arm, but he’s smiling, he’s shining, and fuck, Richie might cry, he’s so in love. 

“I named it _for_ you, so you would get off my case,” Eddie says, “plus I basically wear it as prep for your massive dick, so the little seemed accurate.” 

He grinds into Richie’s lap hard, setting a brutal pace because Richie does have a show to put on, but first he’s going to fuck Eddie within an inch of his life, because he is a Sex God and deserves absolutely nothing less. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Richie gasps when Eddie pinches at his nipple through his shirt, and then Richie realizes he’s wearing the pants he’s supposed to go out there in, and almost pitches Eddie off his lap. 

“ _Hey_ ,” Eddie hisses, and Richie hoists him back to a stand with one shaking hand. 

“I’ve gotta take my fucking pants off, why don’t you strip off those things, or are they painted on?” Richie points to the shorts.

“Fuck off, you love them,” Eddie says, and Richie’s nodding, and then they’re naked from the waist down and writhing together in the chair again and Richie trails a hand up to get at the plug nestled deep in Eddie’s hole. 

“You want me to take it out, baby?” he growls, and Eddie grabs at the back of his head, jerking it back so he can bite at his neck.

“Richie, fuck me,” Eddie whispers, rough. Richie’s on a schedule, so he twists the base gently, petting at Eddie’s hips and stomach as it slowly dislodges, and then Eddie’s there with a travel bottle of lube and bing bang boom they’re ready and rarin’ to go. 

“You want it fast?” Richie asks, but they’re already humping desperately at each other, Richie can barely get a good grip on his dick enough to press inside, and then Eddie’s slick erection glides over the pouch in his stomach and he almost loses it.

“Richie, c’mon, just put it-”

“I’m trying but you’re halfway to fucking my bellybutton and I-”

“Oh my g- fuck, there, you’re at, _yeah_ ,” Eddie whines, and Richie pushes up, circling hands to hold at Eddie’s ass, sinking him down gently. Once he’s fully seated, Eddie plants a hand on each of Richie’s shoulders and fucking _goes_ for it. 

Richie’s practically pinned in the chair. His legs are long but the recline of the stupid thing doesn’t allow him much control. Eddie’s apparently feral tonight, so it doesn’t end up mattering much. Their thighs slap hard and rough, echoing in the room, and Richie suddenly remembers Steve has a key but he can already hear the octave change in Eddie’s voice as he _screams_. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me, Rich, oh my god, fuck me,” Eddie’s rambling, and Richie loves him, so he keeps doing what he’s doing. He’s not really sure what it is, but he’s bouncing along for the ride so he keeps doing that, keeps kicking up his hips best he can and moaning into Eddie’s mouth when he deigns to kiss him and then he wraps a big fist around Eddie’s cock and _squeezes_ and Eddie blows all over his shirt. 

“Oh _shit_ ,” Richie says as he starts coming inside, because that is _so fucking hot_. He can’t be bothered to stroke Eddie through it while he’s going off, so he presses bruises into Eddie’s ass with the length of his fingers, holding on tight, thrusting up and up and Eddie slots their mouths together and Richie almost blacks out. 

Later, once Eddie kisses him silly and peels himself off Richie’s lap, Richie stares down at his ruined shirt. He looks up to see Eddie holding a new one open above him.

“C’mon, funny man, let’s get you decent,” Eddie says, dick still softening between his legs, blush still red on his face. Richie wobbles up to a stand and starts undressing.

He walks out onto that stage grinning like a fool, knowing Eddie is out in the audience, and that Little Richie is back where he belongs. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Please leave me a comment or yell at me [on Twitter](https://twitter.com/camerasparring) or BOTH, I love to hear from you if you're able/willing.


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